


Christmas presents

by MultiE96



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:01:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21944791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MultiE96/pseuds/MultiE96
Summary: [...]"You know ..." whispered the angel after what fell like centuries, or just a few minutes, the demon couldn't tell, suspended in that pleasant clouded torpor. "I can't wait for you to open my gift."A sudden realization opened the demon's golden eyes.He had not chosen a gift for Aziraphale yet.[...]
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 47





	Christmas presents

**Author's Note:**

> ★ Calendar Advent event by Fanwriter.it!  
> ★ Date: 20 December
> 
> Hey guys! This is my first updated on this site.  
> I wrote this story for the Calendar Advent event by Fanwriter of this year.  
> I'm also a digital artist (my name online is MultiE), so I hope you appreciate the fanart I did for this story.  
> I'm Italian and I'm bad at English, so I just want to thank my friend @Steno for the help to translate it, you did a great job.   
> If you run into any grammar error or similars, please let us know, this is our first collaboration.  
> I hope you like it and I wish you all a very Merry Christmas!
> 
> Twitter: https://twitter.com/MultiEleonora96  
> Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/multie96

A hot puff of air clouded a window in the South Downs. Inside the cottage, the atmosphere was warm and welcoming, to the delight of a grumpy demon, very sensitive to the cold.

"I hate winter." Crowley groaned in a low voice, giving a bored look at the Bentley parked at the end of the driveway.

A snap of the fingers and the snow on the roof disappeared in the blink of an eye.

"My dear, repeating it every day will not make it go by faster." Pointed out warmly Aziraphale, joining him by the window to hand him a steaming cup of chocolate.

The demon pouted, clutching the black ceramic between his slender fingers and moving to make room for the angel on the windowsill.

The angel accepted the silent invitation to sit, casually placing one hand on his thigh.

They were a week far in December and Christmas's holidays were almost upon them. The snowfalls had become a daily routine, along with the demon's rumblings and hot chocolates.

Shortly after stopping the Apocalypse, the two ethereal being moved to the countryside. It wasn't clear who suggested it, but both of them agreed it was a great idea. Now retired, without external pressures, the angel and the demon were free to explore the boundaries of their new relationship.

"I don't understand why you like this season so much,” Crowley muttered again after a sip, licking his lips absently.

He did have a sweet tooth, but he made an exception for hot chocolate. Especially the one made by his angel, tampered with a drop of liquor. It felt good to know he made it like that only for him, and for him only. 

"Oh, Crowley, there are so many reasons to love winter." Smiled fondly the angel behind his winged cup. "For example, look at the enchanting landscape this season offers us!" He proposed, tilting his head slightly towards the window and the snowy countryside.

"Yes, a cold and desolate landscape." The other countered sarcastically, earning a snort as a response.

"Not all the creatures of the Lord out there are cold-blooded, Crowley."

"Point taken." He conceded with a low defeated growl, drawing obscene figures on the misted glass with a finger, before receiving a tap on the hand.

"Also, in winter I have an extra excuse to make my hot chocolate." Aziraphale continued determined, caressing lovingly the edge of his favourite cup.

"You don't need excuses." declared Crowley seriously, laying his hand on his. "You can eat or drink whatever you want whenever you want."

A dainty blush bloomed on the cheeks of the principality to the gesture, which, until some time ago, would have made him shift away, scared and embarrassed. Now, instead, he was free to receive those small and intimate attentions, returning them.

He leaned toward the demon, leaving a chaste kiss full of affection on his cheek.

"Dear, I know. But in winter I can share it with you." The demon's face burned under the amused gaze of Aziraphale.

"Angel..." He sighed embarrassed, running a hand through his reddish hair. He wasn't used to this kind of declarations, stated aloud spontaneously.

"Oh!" The angel exclaimed, the blue eyes shining with new inspiration. "And then there's Christmas. I love Christmas. Decorations, gifts and food! Especially the desserts."

Crowley shacked his head in amusement, glancing towards their living room. The centre completely took over by a huge Christmas tree packed in ornaments.

They had decorated it together on the morning of 8 December, as the tradition wanted.

Crowley had chosen the tree, opting for small spruce with needles so green that it rivals every single evergreen in Britain. He came down early to the village with the Bentley, passing the whole morning to the market to inspect every single candidate, frightening the hell out of them. In the end, he picked the one which made the best to impress under his thorough examination. 

His threats hardly produced a light tremor in the tree, that twig had guts! 

Aziraphale was in charge of choosing the decorations, he picked a gold and silver theme, for the balls and the shiny star-shaped tip. 

Anathema, Newt and Adam with his friends, had then helped to expand the variety of decorations on its branches, bringing everyone something meaningful when they came to visit them.

As a result, their tree was majestic and chaotic but full of love.

"Hmm ... yes, maybe it's not so bad after all." Said the demon lightly, causing the burst of a laugh in the angel. 

"Grumpy Snake." The angel addressed him, before leaning towards his lips to catch his breath in a languid kiss.

Aziraphale moved away a few moments later before the kiss could deepen into something more daring, clearing his throat and blaming the decorative mistletoe hanged over the window. Crowley smirked, raising an eyebrow and looking at the culprit. He would have pledged the Bentley on the fact that the mistletoe wasn't there before but he decided to let it slip.

He took a mental note to hang mistletoe under each beam, arch or door in the house.

They slowly slipped into a pleasant silence, enjoying what was left of their hot chocolate.

Crowley felt happy.

With the angel drawing circles between his hair absent-mindedly, he allowed himself to relax with his head on his shoulder, closing his eyes.

"You know ..." whispered the angel after what fell like centuries, or just a few minutes, the demon couldn't tell, suspended in that pleasant clouded torpor. "I can't wait for you to open my gift."

A sudden realization opened the demon's golden eyes.

He had not chosen a gift for Aziraphale yet.

"Are you okay, dear?" He asked the angel concerned, feeling his body tensing all of sudden.

"Sure, angel. Just a draft." He quickly lied, straightening up. He materialized a pair of sunglasses and covered his eyes, escaping the inquisitive gaze of the other. "I also can't wait for you to open my gift."

The hint about the present made the angel light up, he started to make assumptions about what it might be, while Crowley's brain worked out every possible alternative, one could almost see gears working in the process.

_Damn. Damn. Damn._

"... or maybe a first edition to add to my collection. Oh dear, whatever it is, I'm sure I'll love it."

Concluded Aziraphale, before taking the empty cup from his hands to take it to the kitchen.

Crowley cursed himself. He decided that not only would give Aziraphale a present but that this gift would astonish his angel.

_You will adore him, angel. I promise._

***

Crowley had decided that he would not miracle the perfect gift.

No, what he had to give to Aziraphale, the one he wanted to give him, could not be miraculous.

After careful analysis and weighing all the alternatives on his list, a very long list drawn up over the course of an entire week after their discussion, he had come to the conclusion that he could not simply buy one of the things that the angel had previously guessed.

Why? The reason was very simple.

It would have been obvious, predictable, banal. Therefore he would not have had the effect he longed for.

He wanted to see his angel's face shocked in surprise. For this reason expensive wines, first editions and tartans were crossed out.

_Think Crowley, think, dammit._

What could have made his angel happy? How could he express 6,000 years of feelings with a miserable gift?

There had been other Christmases before, more or less since it was invented, it was not the first time he had given Aziraphale a gift. He often found himself bringing chocolates or a bouquet as simple gestures of courtesy to his angel, that's why this gift should have stood out from the others.

_Come on Crowley! You are the one who came out with the idea of shaping a highway only to praise Satan in a dead language!_ Despite the negative aspects, the M25 remained his best job.

An irritated growl slipped between his lips, frightening some passers-by around him. Careless of everything, he resumed walking aimlessly through the streets of London, trying to get an idea.

That morning he took the Bentley hoping that the city, with its thousands of alternatives, could shake up his lazy brain, giving him some sort of divine or damned illumination. He even thought about calling Anathema to ask for advice.

A chill breeze forced him to tighten more in the black coat. Maybe he should miracle a scarf, he thought.

"Damn winter." He cursed aloud, seeking refuge inside a cafe.

His slender body was dissolved as soon as the door was shut behind him, saving him from the cruel cold.

He chose a secluded table and ordered a long black coffee, although he rather had chocolate with Aziraphale, not that he would ever admit it.

At least the coffee proved to be good.

The demon pulled out from his pocket a notebook and began tapping on it with a pen. Now and then he scribbled something with confidence but it never took for him to delete it fervently.

He slid down on the padded seat of the couch, frustrated.

"So Ella, what plans do you with your girlfriend for Christmas?"

Unwittingly, his ears tuned to the conversation behind him.

"Nothing special Debbie, we were thinking to celebrate with her parents Christmas's Eve and head to my place afterwards. I will make breakfast on Christmas's morning and then we will visit my parents out of town for lunch. "

"Isn't it a bit too traditional?" The other chuckled, leaning over the table.

_I wouldn't mind that kind of program._ The demon thought, hiding a smile behind the second cup of coffee.

"Maybe yes, it's traditional, but we never manage to spend much time together because of our jobs, so during the holidays we always seek tranquillity. You know, time to spend with our loved ones. "

Crowley vowed to miracle two tickets for a trip in the girl's wallet before he leaving the bar. Just to encourage idleness, not because he was kind. Demons were not kind.

"Have you already thought about a gift?" To that question, Crowley became more careful.

"Not yet ... I can't find anything suitable." The girl admitted, drumming her hand on the table.

_We're on the same boat._ The demon thought silently.

"I could do something handmade ... I don't know, like a sweater." She proposed, evaluating the idea and seeming to mentally discard it. "Well, given the opportunity, I would gift her the Moon but it's slightly out of reach for a human being."

He exclaimed with a last drumming section before giggling, causing her friend to laugh as well.

Yeah, that was supernatural's business.

A dazzling idea suddenly struck the demon.

He got up with an uncanny quick jerk, leaving the money for the bill on the table and remembering to perform a small miracle before leaving the bar.

_Thanks for your help, Ella. Have a nice trip._

As he reached the Bentley his brain was already working. That's where he had been wrong in his research so far. He went too conventional, too tied to human limits. But he wasn't as human and neither was Aziraphale. In addition to miracles, he had other aces up his sleeve related to his true nature.

With a satisfied grin, he darted through the streets of London regardless of pedestrians and speed limits, ready to begin the gift operation.

***

Aziraphale was radiant. Not only in the figurative sense of the term, but also in the practical sense.

"Angel, I hate to say it. But you should contain your emotions. You're literally shining! "

The angel realized he was emitting light and blushed in embarrassment, recomposing himself.

"Excuse me, dear, I think I'm slightly elated this morning."

"Slightly." Crowley teased him fondly, kissing him on the temple.

"After all, it's our first Christmas together, how could I not be." 

"Even if it's still Christmas Eve."

Two bony arms encircled his waist from behind, wrapping him in a pleasant embrace.

"I'm not complaining about your enthusiasm, angel." The demon purred, close to his ear. His voice still hoarse from sleep sent small electric shocks down the angel's back.

"Let's just try to not show your joy to all of England."

"You're exaggerating as usual." He rolled his eyes, looking at him through the mirror.

Crowley was still wearing his black silk pyjamas. He was sporting bed hair: untidy locks shot in every direction. His eyes, those beautiful abysses of liquid gold in which he drowned every day, stared at him with such adoration that Aziraphale felt almost crushed.

_Oh, he's not my friend._

_Do you know what would happen if they discovered me fraternizing with a demon?_

_You go too fast for me, Crowley._

_I don't even like you!_

He had been a fool in denying the love he had felt wrapped around him for all those centuries. It took him 6,000 years to accept something as simple as love; something which was supposed to be the ultimate reason for his creation and to which he was supposed to devote his whole life. What an immense coward he had been, wounding the one who was everything to him, so as not to admit openly what his heart understood a long time ago; selfish in enjoying Crowley's warm attentions whenever they met in the passing of the ages, granting the daemon only crumbles of his affection.

What a treacherous liar he had been up to the last, too terrified by the fury of Paradise, true to his role as a principality, to be able to think with his own head. It took him the threat of a post-Apocalypse heelish trial to accept his feelings.

Since then, with the stream of events and the comforting flow of their new life, he didn't have the opportunity to apologize properly for his reprehensible behaviour.

"You have become quiet, angel."

The principality twisted uncomfortably in his arms, turning to nestle his face into his chest.

"Dear, I'm so sorry."

"Hey, Zira, what's going on?" Crowley looked at him with confusion and apprehension. "Angel, look at me please." He implored him, passing a reassuring hand through the pale curls.

"I was so unfair and cruel to you, Crowley."

"Aziraphale, what the hell are you talking about?" The angel didn't answer immediately, trying to hold back the sobs that were threatening to break out in his throat.

"I'm talking about how I denied my feelings for you until a few months ago. About how I hurt you, over and over again, pretending not to see the harm I caused to us, to you, hiding behind the excuse that it was for our safety, because I wanted to protect ourselves from the wrath of our parts when probably I was just terrified." The demon watched him unable to react, letting Aziraphale's emotions pour over him like a rushing river. He was at the mercy of the flood, unable to escape the vehemence of his gaze. "I was afraid I was wrong; that a wonderful and kind creature like you, oh! Don't even look at me that way, you know very well that I'm right! I was afraid that you didn't felt the same way I did for you, or worse: after a taste of happiness, you would grow tired of me and left me behind. You have always been the one most inclined to change, the one who had no problem embracing the rapid progress of humanity and the passing of ages, to adapt. And when I finally managed to share my feelings, you accepted them, simply returning my affection and making me the happiest ethereal being in the universe. "

"This is not true." The demon stopped him, hissing seriously as he grabbed his face. "Aziraphale, my beautiful angel. You weren't the only one who was afraid. "He stroked his tear-streaked cheeks before continuing." You were not the only one to stay silent or to omit. I tried to hide my feelings for a long time, probably failing.” A nervous laugh rolled out of his mouth before he could continue his speech. "I contented myself with being able to stay by your side, with your friendship, because it was easier to move in my comfort zone, rather than face the risk of rejection. I have always been the type to ask questions, but I never dared to ask the most important one." The tears of the angel had stopped and his sobs reduced to a faint moan. "I've always been afraid of losing you. I am known to make a mess out of simple things, angel. And I would never forgive myself if I ruined the only thing that made my life worth to be lived." He smiled, catching with a thumb a tear stuck to the corner of a blue eye.

"But you never hurt me. Or at least not on purpose.” The principality seemed to want to keep a point, not yet convinced by its reassurances.

"Aziraphale, I will not deny having been wounded on more than one occasion." The body of the angel was crossed by a shiver of fear. "But that's the past. I won't waste a minute more brooding on something I can't change, now that I have the chance to be happy with you."

"Just to clarify, if I wanted to get bored of you, I would have had 6000 years to think about it. I think I'm pretty attached to old-fashioned things. After all, I drive a Bentley, not exactly the latest car model.” Aziraphale laughed relieved at the joke.

The demon leaned forward to rest his forehead against his.

"I would say that we both deserve to forgive ourselves for the past, what do you say?"

"I love you." He whispered barely audible, clutching the demon's hands that still framed his face.

"I love you too, angel." Answered the demon, kissing the tip of his nose. "Now, how about breakfast? I want to see you come back to shine like before. "

"Shouldn't I have been more discreet about my emotions? What will become of England? "

"Well, England can go fuck itself." The demon proclaimed, taking his hand.

"Crowley, language." There wasn't intention in the reproach.

The demon laughed, stopping under the door.

"Crowley?" Before the principality could ask what was wrong, the demon's lips were on his own, pressing his mouth against his, barely a hint of forked tongue tasting the taste of cinnamon and chocolate mixed with that salty residue of his tears.

The serpent of Eden walked away with a sly smile, barely concealing his appreciation, looking at the defeated face of the Eastern Gate Guardian.

"Excuse me." He said, approaching with a predatory look. "Blame the mistletoe." He accused, raising a finger to indicate the small twig with red berries.

The principality's face went up in flames, realizing what he was referring to with that joke.

Crowley chuckled as he dragged him into the kitchen, casting smug glances at each strategically placed branch along his path.

He was a demon of his word.

After that talk, the rest of the day went on beautifully.

Crowley made breakfast, cooking pancakes soft like clouds with a delicious berry jam, and pouring hot chocolate for Aziraphale and coffee for himself.

Then, after they were done eating, he miracled one of those terrible Christmas sweaters with the words "jingle my bells" embroidered on it, just to snatch a smile from his angel. 

They took the Bentley and drove to London, where they had lunch in a charming Hawaiian restaurant. In the end, they went for a walk at St. James's Park.

As usual, they stopped to buy a bag of corn for the ducks and spent most of the afternoon feeding them, arguing animatedly whether or not it was cannibalism to give apple juice to an apple tree, an existential doubt raised from the demon.

According to Crowley, it was not cannibalism only because the apple tree had no decision-making power in this regard.

The demon had not spared himself from complaining about the cold, of course, earning more than one exasperated glance from his angel.

"You would certainly be less cold if you just dress properly." The principality scolded him, warm under several layers of clothes.

The demon wore only a long anthracite coat with a stand-up collar and a pair of thick gloves, in addition to his usual super tight black jeans and the Christmas sweater.

"There is no attractiveness in warm clothes?" Muttered the snake, pushing his head deeper in the collar. 

The angel rolled his eyes again, taking his hand.

"You don't need clothes to be attractive." He pointed out to him, drawing him to himself to whisper conspiratorially. "Actually, I have to admit to finding you very attractive without it."

Crowley's jaw threatened to break off his face and fall to the ground in amazement.

"Ngn! Angel, you will be my death."

Back home that night, the two ethereal and occult beings prepared a three-course dinner together, which for once Crowley did not refuse to eat, uncorked more than a bottle of expensive wine, and spent the rest of the evening on the couch, the fire crackled merrily, placidly wrapped in a blanket watching one of the many Christmas movies broadcasted on TV.

"Oh, dear, which parents forget their son at home before they leave for a trip?" Said Aziraphale, squatting better on the demon's chest.

"Shitty parents."

"Crowley ..."

"I know, I know. _Language_." Said the other one.

The angel glanced furtively at the clock on the wall. There were just over five minutes to midnight, then it would be officially Christmas. The principality was starting to be anxious. He did not want to wait the next morning to give his present to Crowley, especially after the scene they had that morning.

If he was to be honest with himself, he still felt a little guilty about the emotional outburst he had.

"Hey, Zira, how about opening your present?" The snake almost seemed to read in his mind, rubbing his nose through his rebellious curls.

The angel was weak to the demon saying his name with that inflexion. 

"But it's not midnight yet." He grumbled, biting his lip.

"There are only five minutes left, angel." He snorted to hide a smile from the demon, kissing his neck, scratching his teeth barely on a point he knew would have snatched a pleased sigh from the collected principality.

"Mhm ... We could always wait, right?" The angel tried to resist the temptation to give in but was unable to resist the attentions of the skilful mouth that was storming the tender and pale flesh of his neck.

"For five damned minutes?" Crowley raised an eyebrow, stopping, looking at him as if he had said the greatest nonsense in the universe.

Aziraphale returned the gaze, smiling in a decidedly un-angelic way.

"I know a good way to spend the next five minutes." He stated, passing an allusive hand over his chest, capturing the full attention of those amber eyes he loved so much.

"I don't think it five minutes are going to be nearly enough, my dear hedonistic angel." The other teased him with a sensual voice.

"No ... that's true." The angel licked his lips and the demon swallowed loudly with expectation. "But in five minutes I can get a taste."

Aziraphale closed the distance between them, panting with gusto when he met the demon's mouth as if he was tasting one of his beloved desserts.

The tongues danced with playfully and the teeth teased lips, both thanked that their corporations did not actually have to breathe to live, because they always seem to forget to breath while kissing.

When they parted, the wall clock was now quarter past midnight.

"I said that five minutes wouldn't be enough." The demon smirked, raising his eyebrows, holding his angel in his arms.

The principality's cheeks were painted of a tender pink colour and the blond curls shot in all directions forming a natural halo around his head.

"Okay, dear, maybe you were right." He indulged, stroking his cheek. "Now, how about opening our presents?" He straightened up with a smile, rising from the sofa to snap his fingers and make a package appear in his hands.

Neither of them trusted to leave their gift on display under the tree.

The demon took the parcel wrapped in tartan gift paper and studied it for a few seconds, before opening it reverently. It seemed almost a shame to tear the paper thinking how much love the angel must have taken to pack it all up. But then maybe he had only miracled the gift inside, who knows.

What Crowley found managed to paint a silly smile on his face that he would deny for eternity.

He held up in his hands what was a simple knitted scarf, mostly composed of large woollen threads of a dark black colour with a soft blue shadow, crossed by small gold filaments. It looked almost like a clear starry night sky. But it wasn't the originality of the gift that struck him. A scarf was a fairly ordinary gift, everyone knew it. What amazed him was the love he felt radiating from the garment. Demons shouldn't be able to sense love, but at that moment Crowley was sure he could feel it.

"Angel." He blew breathlessly, passing his hand over the knots of the scarf with absolute devotion. Some of these seemed inaccurate as if made by an inexperienced hand. A silent question was asked with an exchange of glances and the demon felt his heart explode in his chest at the smile he received as a reply.

“I think this is a fairly attractive and warm garment. What do you say, my dear?” The principality asked shyly, torturing his hands in an attempt to relieve the tension.

_What if he doesn't like it? What if it is trivial? Oh good god, look at those knots, I should have fixed them._

"It's perfect, Aziraphale." The principality's doubts were swept away by a simple sentence and he relaxed in a relieved sigh.

Crowley wrapped his scarf around his neck, getting up to embrace his beloved angel.

"Oh, honey. I'm so glad you like it." The angel chirped, placing a hand on his cheek. “You know, I have been waiting since forever to give it to you, I had it for years. I wish I could have given it to you sooner."

"How long?" Asked the demon curious, turning his face to kiss the palm of his hand.

"More or less since 1941." He cleared his throat with an embarrassed cough.

The Blitz had been a milestone in his journey to realizing his affections for the demon.

"It will be another old-fashioned thing that I love." Crowley grinned fondly, gently pecking his lips.

Now it was his turn to give his gift to the angel.

With his hands clasped and after having miraculously jacketed both of them, he led the principality into the back garden of the cottage.

They walked in the snow, under a clear sky dotted with a multitude of shining stars.

Aziraphale followed every step of his demon in silence, although curiosity was devouring him from within. The demon let go of his hand, asking him to stay still where he was, taking a few steps to reach for the sky, surprising the angel when he seemed to grab a star and pull it down safely in his hands, with the same ease with which he could have taken an apple from a tree.

"Isn't it a bit excessive as a hiding place for a gift, my dear?" His voice vibrated with emotion as the demon returned to him, offering him a small black box.

_Oh, Lord._

"The best hiding place is the one in plain sight." The snake grinned, his eyes shining in the moonlight.

The angel squeezed the box in his trembling hands, feeling his heartbeat loudly against the sternum. He had to remind himself that his corporation could not have a heart attack, even if his conviction was shaking at the moment.

He lifted the lid with a click and all the breath in his lungs was suddenly gone. A ring with a modern and elegant design, a simple silver band, lay on a burgundy pad. There was something unusual about the metal the gift was made of, the angel noted, but he was too excited to get his brain working properly.

"Crowley ... oh, love ... I-" Tears threatened to flow on his face for the second time in a matter of hours.

"Shhh." The demon reassured him, placing a hand on his waist. "If you allow me, I would have two words to spend on this gift."

“Oh, sure, honey. Anything you want. ”He stammered confusedly.

Crowley was enchanted by the angel's reaction. In the whole universe, he swore, he had never seen anything more spectacular than the ethereal being he was facing right now.

"Well. Yes." Suddenly the snake of Eden found himself speechless. “As you well know, before the fall, I helped shape and hang some stars. It was a nice task, to bend the cosmic forces with my will to forge a new celestial body from nothing and then choose a suitable place in which to place it. But unfortunately, it is no longer something I am allowed to do."

His angel's gaze was veiled with sadness and Crowley hurried on. “But that's okay. It is gone. But I still have enough power to model existing matter. "He explained, pointing to the ring." That's what's left of a meteor, commonly called a shooting star."

He had no way of continuing his explanation because Aziraphale's arms closed around his neck, dragging him into a desperate kiss. What the demon was trying to explain it was that he kept a small piece of a meteor from the first rain of falling stars he had witnessed from the earth, once he became a demon. He had captured the fragment just before the atmosphere could completely burn it and had kept it with him, an heirloom to remind him of a lost past. 

But there would certainly have been another opportunity to tell that part. 

"You, old snake." The angel whined affectionately, kissing him on the mouth, cheeks, forehead and wherever he could reach.

"It seemed like a good way to formalize things, didn't it?" The demon felt a little stunned by all that affection.

"The best, my love." Replied the principality, sniffling graciously. "It makes my scarf pale."

"I LOVE that scarf." The demon frowned protested.

When the emotions became manageable again, Crowley let the ring slip around his finger.

The demon smiled noting that the angel had returned to shine in his arms, just like that morning.

"Merry Christmas, angel."

"Merry Christmas, my love."

[ ](https://ibb.co/FgxBGkc)


End file.
